Under my wings
by xfmoon
Summary: Just a little drabble about wings and stuff. Tag to 3x24 A Devil of My Word.


**A/N:** Forgive me for all and any inaccuracies when it comes to what happened in this scene, it's been a really long time since I saw the epi, so I don't remember details.

 **Spoilers:** For 3x24 A Devil of My Word.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to Lucifer, and they're definitely not hiding underneath my nonexistent wings.

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He had always hated his wings. Useless symbols of his divinity; of all the things that he despised. He'd cut them off, purposefully, more than once, and they had grown right back every time. What kind of screwed up logic was that? He didn't want them, but couldn't get rid of them, whereas his brother, Amenadiel, had wanted nothing more for a long time. Ironic really. But in this very moment – crouching on the floor, cradling a barely conscious detective, surrounded by bad guys shooting at them – he was grateful for them. Unfolding automatically from his back he used them for protection and cover. Hiding behind his father's image of him, his creation, the light bringer, king of hell. He felt like a fake, for using what he hated so much. But he didn't care, not in that exact instant.

His feathery extensions created the perfect little cave of safety. Certainly, for Chloe, but also for himself; with her this close, his strange vulnerability was in effect and could have fatal consequences. Could the devil die? Would he risk it? For her? Yes! There was no doubt about that. What was the worst that could happen anyway? He would end up in Hell? Big deal, that would be like coming home, literally. And he had escaped from that place before, no reason he couldn't do that again.

But the pain though, he could have lived without that. Having Chloe this close meant dealing with human feelings. There were so many, oh so many he'd previously only heard about but never experienced on his own celestial form. Physical pain was a real doozy. Right now, he felt the sting of each bullet hitting his wings, the searing pain as each pellet collided with what was still essentially a part of him. Leaving dots of red on the angelic white plumage, like a bloody Dalmatian.

The shooting went on for what felt like ages; his own little private corner of Hell on Earth. The ammo kept raining down on him, on them. Effectively tearing his wings to shreds in the end.

He had been afraid his wings would be the death of Chloe; the manifestation of his dreams had showed him as much. So never in a million years had he imagined they would be instrumental in saving her life.

Was he actually thankful for what his father, God, had given him?

Was this the purpose of the atrocities that were his wings?

And if there was a purpose/a grand plan for everything, why had God chosen to give him back his devil face now, and then allowed for Chloe to finally see it?

God was supposed to be the protector of all of creation, including mankind and angels alike, keeping them safe under his wings, metaphorically of course, not like Lucifer had just done. But outing him to Chloe – something he'd tried to do many times himself, on his terms – not caught off guard like this; what purpose did that serve? Who was God protecting now, and from whom?

One thing was for sure, Lucifer had never felt included in that community, that inner circle of protectees, this latest development only went along to prove that point. That God did nothing but toy with him and his supposed free will. Reserving his love and protection for those he felt to be more worthy of his graces.

In the end Lucifer guessed, he and God had similar intentions, wings or no wings; keeping those they loved safe, while making everyone else that deserved it suffer.

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 **A/N:** I'm so bad at endings, sorry. It went a bit, I don't know, religiously or airy or something.

I've wanted to write something for this epi since it aired, I just couldn't get anything down, and then it got farther and farther away, so again the epi details are a bit fuzzy in my head.


End file.
